Unspoken
by Sandolious
Summary: An ExLover's Pain.Past HPSS Current HGSS .


Title: Unspoken

Author: Sandolious

Pairing: Past HP/SS, current SS/HG

Summery: An ex-lover's pain.

Warning: non-graphic violence,

Rating: PG

Genre: drama, angst, slash, hetro-relations

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters and excreta. I am using them for my own amusement.

Words: 1,577

Unspoken 1/1

Sun splashed into a large apartment bay window. The light reached out across the polished wooden floor and on to a thick oak table with pictures scattered on it. There sat a twenty-five year old Harry Potter sipping a bottle of water, while a lit un-smoked cigarette lay in the ash tray by his right elbow. In his hand were two pictures, held up side by side. Their occupants moved, waving at Harry, while one man stood imposing and tall in both.

A younger Severus Snape stood in both pictures, a youth potion was slipped into his tea by Dumbledore, the last thing their mentor had done before they had ventured away from Hogwarts. In the left picture, Severus had his arms wrapped around the waist of his young lover, who rested back against his chest. The young lover would wave, sigh and if one watched the couple long enough, they would kiss passionately for a few seconds before their positions fell back into place. Unruly hair, deep green eyes and a lightening bolt scar identified the lover as Harry. Both appeared to be happy and deeply in love.

On the right stood Severus, face blank, arm draped around the waist of his young lover. A woman. Silky brown hair, brown eyes, soft face and curved body. Hermione Granger. She smiled at Harry waving shyly, then looked up at Severus and if you watched long enough, kissed him on his cheek. They appeared to be content, not passionately in love, but peaceful. Happy even.

Similar pictures covered the table top. Piling on top of each other. Merging the couples into one massive collage of love, passion, hope, peace. One relationship and the other. Bound and linked by their only similarity. One man. Harry looked at the photos for a few minutes longer, before setting them down. The one to catch his eye next made him scowl.

Hermione stood tall and prim in a beautiful low cut ankle length simple velvet green dress. A crown was placed upon her head and she stood on a stage in the Great Hall. Dumbledore and McGonagall stood next to her, clapping and Snape could be seen in the corner clapping politely, a small upturn of his lips the only indication of a smile upon his face. Queen of the Ball, their seventh year. They were all proud.

Harry stared hard at the picture, before slamming his water bottle down on it. Harry wondered briefly while stepping away from the table to get ready for the evening, if Severus loved Hermione then, before he had been with either of the Gryffindors.

Across town Severus stood in the lounge of his home. Watching his fiancé talk about her recent breakthrough. She paced slightly, smiling brightly at Severus who smiled back. Though in the back of his mind, every time she smiled at him, someone else would come to mind. Every time the picture or voice of his ex lover would appear. His breath taking smile would be compared to his fiancé. But like always he dismissed the images and voice, and listened once again to his beautiful wife to be.

Once she was done, he kissed her gently on the mouth, grabbed his bag and left to a conference in Germany, where he was a lead speaker. Hermione bid her soon to be husband good bye, then began to get ready to go out. A half hour later, the house of the would be married couple was dark, cold and locked. Empty of any inhabitants.

Several hours later, Harry grabbed the keys to his apartment and left, locking the door. Walking down the stair case from the third floor, he outlined his plans to go shopping for the essentials and renting his favorite Friday night movie, Love Actually, at the shop three blocks down before heading home again with some take out.

Stepping out on the sidewalk, he buttoned his coat from the slight chill in the air before turning and pausing. He watched as a tousled looking Hermione Granger walked out of their best friend's apartment. Ron came down the steps a few minutes later; they spoke, kissed deeply, then left their separate ways. Harry shook his head, whispering his lover's name into the wind before heading down the street to accomplish his shopping. It wasn't his responsibility anymore, he thought, remembering Severus' sharp words the last time they had a confrontation.

A week later, Severus returned to a dark house. It is past midnight and he knew Hermione would be resting. He made his way silently into their room where he changed into his night clothes and then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He walked over to the bed, climbed in and spooned up against his lover's warm body. Draping his arm across her slim waist to pull her closer, he sighed.

He had missed the warmth of a lover while he was away. Hermione does not wake throughout all of this, her body merely shifts into a comfortable position. Severus placed a light kiss on her bare shoulder and closed his eyes. As sleep began to carry him away, he remembered his other lover, their warmth, their body and he dreamed of Harry the rest of the night.

It was late September when he next saw the happy couple. It was out side a dance club one night. Harry stood pinned against a wall with a brute of a man grabbing his throat with one hand and trying to unbuckle his pants in the other. Harry was clawing at the man's arm when he saw them. They were holding hands, talking softly to each other, oblivious of the outside world. And they walked past the club, past the alley and past where Harry's attacker finally got his pants undone. Not once did they look up.

Harry struggled harder, trying to get their attention but they were gone, and Harry collapsed a half hour later, bloody, dirty and throbbing in pain against the vacant alley floor. The image of the blissfully unaware couple, a permanent image throughout the attack.

Harry made his way home slowly from the club, took a long hot shower where he scrubbed his skin red for an hour before climbing out, mind blank. He pulled on a large loved blue t-shirt with 'Alchemists make the best lube' on the front and a pair of grey sweat pants that barely hung on his hips. Towel drying his hair, he looked up into the mirror, eyes misting over in memories.

Severus had made some very biting comments when it came to Harry's clothing. Nothing he, himself, had picked out was ever good enough when they were going out on the town. Something was always inappropriate or vulgar or oversized or the wrong color. Every time they would fight, spar verbally, until they couldn't any longer. Then after a few minutes where they would take a breather, they would screw; fuck hard against any available surface.

Harry collapsed onto his bed, pleading the memories to go away. Pleading for his lover to leave him be. Into the night, only his beloved Hedwig would know of his pain.

Harry woke the next morning with a black eye and bruised throat. Cuts and scratches littered his legs and arms, but the worse injury. His eyes looked at his reflection with apathy. One's once so vibrant, were now dull, darker, jaded.

The sun was high in the sky by the time he made it out of his bed room and into the lounge. The pictures still littered the table and his ash tray was full of lit cigarettes never smoked.

He slowly made his way to the kitchen where he started heating water. Pulling out a large plain mug and a bag of Earl Grey, he leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. Waiting for the pain to ebb away. Waiting for life to change.

After his tea was ready, Harry made his way to the table where he stood, towering over the pictures. And with all the resolve he could muster, he set his mug down and gathered the pictures into one large stack. The top most picture, him and Severus cuddling next to a warm fire.

Harry smiled slightly at them as he walked across his living room. He set them down on the wood and whispered the spell. Harry stood watching as each picture turned to ash. Each memory dissolve. He watched his life mingle with his lover's and disappear with the soothing embers of the fire. Turning away, he picked up his mug and sat in the bay window looking down along the street as people scurried by.

He watched as couple after couple walked around the street merchants, buying and browsing. He watched as Severus and Hermione stopped in front of a flower merchant and Hermione let go of Severus' hand while she viewed all the variety of flowers. He watched as Severus looked around and then Harry turned away, leaving his window and closing the blinds.

Severus, down on the street catches a glimpse of the battered Harry turning away and lowering the blinds. And not seconds later, it begins to rain. Drenching couples and shop keepers alike. Severus though stares at the closed window a moment longer before his hand is pulled and he makes his way quickly to his warm, dry home, with his fiancé.

Complete

The following is the song which gave me in the inspiration for this piece of work.

So my gratitude goes to Dido and her music. Thanks for being a muse.

Dido Song: Don't Think of Me

So you're with her, and not with me, I hope she's sweet, and so pretty

I hear she cooks delightfully, a little angel beside you

So you're with her, and not with me, oh how lucky one man can be

I hear your house is smart and clean, oh how lovely with your homecoming queen

Oh how lovely it must be

When you see her sweet smile baby, don't think of me

When she lies in your warm arms, don't think of me

So you're with her, and not with me, I know she spreads sweet honey

In fact your best friend, I heard he spent last night with her

Now how do you feel, how do you feel

When you see her sweet smile baby, don't think of me

When she lays in your warm arms, don't think of me

And it's too late and it's too bad, don't think of me

Oh it's too late and it's too bad, don't think of me

Does it bother you now all the mess I made

Does it bother you now the clothes you told me not to wear

Does it bother you now all the angry games we played

Does it bother you now when I'm not there

When you see her sweet smile baby, don't think of me

When she lies in your warm arms, don't think of me

And It's too late and it's too bad, don't think of me

Oh it's too late, oh it's too bad, don't think of me.


End file.
